Our lampshades at midnight shine like amber moonlight,
like late august and amethyst; brief pulses of electric-cotton bliss.
They brand our bodies like ***** poppies
in the newest blue before the sunrise.
Dear, lay still as we shelter inside this warmth
Stay silent through the night, lest you need to speak.
If so, then whisper with your palms cupped 'round my skull
So i may feel your syllable kisses dance past the hair of my ear
To feel and know that this not be a dream
Nov 12, 2017
Nov 12, 2017 at 4:21 PM UTC
Our lampshades at midnight shine like amber moonlight,
like late august and amethyst; brief pulses of electric-cotton bliss.
They brand our bodies like ***** poppies
in the newest blue before the sunrise.
Dear, lay still as we shelter inside this warmth
Stay silent through the night, lest you need to speak.
If so, then whisper with your palms cupped 'round my skull
So i may feel your syllable kisses dance past the hair of my ear
To feel and know that this not be a dream
if YOU are reading this (YOU know who YOU are), this was also written for you.
